Cube 3: StuporCube
by Bezo and Yezo
Summary: Some doors aren't meant to be opened. Some questions are better left unanswered. Some movies are better left unwatched. A CubeCaptain Power crossover. Note: this came out before the actual Cube 3, which was called Cube Zero, and God, they can't count!


Cube 3: Stupor-Cube

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Summary: Five strangers, trapped in a strange place with no recollection of how they got there, and no idea how to get out. Hey...didn't someone make a movie out of this?

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Disclaimer: We don't own any of the characters. We also don't own the concept of this story. However, we do own the idea of putting the two together! Yaay for us!

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   "Where am I?" Michael Ellis demanded in mild irritation and less mild bewilderment as he sat up dizzily and gazed around the starkly white room, utterly featureless but for beams crossing overhead and along the walls, and six strange panels, one on each wall and one each on ceiling and floor. "That must have been one hell of a work-out. This doesn't look like the gym, though," he concluded sadly.

After careful reflection, he arrived at the realization that his current position of sitting dazedly in the middle of the floor wouldn't do much to answer the multitudes of questions currently bouncing through his mind, and climbed to his feet.

   "However I got in here," he muttered, starting toward one of the panels on the wall, "there must be a way out."

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   "Whew! Where am I?" Matthew Masterson wondered, gazing about him in utter perplexity. "That must have been some staff party!" 

Shaking his head, he struggled to his feet. 

   "But where the hell am I now? If this is some prank that one of those boys in advertising thinks is funny, they can all get stuffed!"

As the words bounced off the pristinely white, faintly glowing walls streaked with bars, it occurred to him that ranting this way was doing little more than raising his blood pressure, and he decided to look for a way out.

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   "Where the hell am I?" Robert Baker demanded in less bewilderment than outright annoyance, storming about the room and giving the wall a few hearty thumps every now and again. Then, slowing to a stop, he heaved a great sigh. "That must've been one hell of a stake-out."

He gazed about the room and its white walls, mysterious door panels, and crossing metal beams.

   "I got it! This is some sort of crazy dream! That meatloaf sandwich must've gone off. Damn stuff was only a week old, too. Well, might as well play along. Now. How the hell do I get outta here?"

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   "Where am I?" Jennifer Chase wondered in slight confusion and a whole lot of headache-ness. "That must have been some study group. That's the last time I believe someone who tells me a margarita will help me think better."

A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that one might have been fine, but that the twelve she had bought over the course of the night might have been over-doing it a little. She promptly told this voice to shut up and went on with her examination of the strange glowing white room.

   "Oh, well. I guess I had better try to find a way out of here."

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   "Where am I?" Jonathan Power asked aloud, standing carefully and gazing about the bright white room. "That must have been some audition. I wonder where I am, anyway. I wonder if this means I got the part! I wonder…I wonder why I'm talking out loud, when I seem to be the only one in here."

Walking slowly about the room, he carefully examined the panels in the center of each wall. 

   "I wonder if these have something to do with how to get out of here," he murmured, leaning casually against the wall, his hand falling coincidentally in the center of the panel. After all, he had learned at an early age that solutions were stumbled upon more often than not. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, startled, as the panel slid open and he began to fall sideways.

Staggering slightly, he regained his bearings and turned toward the now open door, just in time to be grabbed by the front of the shirt.

   "Finally! I found someone else! I thought I was the only person in here! I've been lookin' for other people, but you're the first one I found!"

   "Okay, okay, just calm down," Jonathan said, detangling from this new visitor's grasp.

   "Yeah, you're right," the other man sighed, hopping from the ledge between rooms to the floor. "I'm just so glad to see another person."

   "How long have you been looking?"

   "About four, five minutes now," the young man replied carefully. "I was a few rooms over. Only figured out how to work the doors three minutes ago."

   "I guess they're kind of tricky," Jon admitted hesitantly. "Why don't you tell me your name? Are you auditioning for the role, too? If you are, I think you should learn to calm down a bit. Acting is a stressful career."

   "Who's acting?" the other man growled. 

   "A method actor! I admire that! Never been one for it myself, but…"

   "I'm no damn actor! I'm Sergeant Robert Baker with L.A.P.D."

   "Well, it's very nice to meet you," Jon assured him. "I'm Jonathan Power. Here's my card."

He reached into his shirt pocket, and then frowned.

   "Where's my card?"

After a quick check of his pockets, he shook his head in the confusion that was becoming rapidly familiar.

   "I could have sworn I had a bunch of them with me. Weird."

   "We've all lost something," Robert informed him coldly. "Me, I've lost my mind."

As Robert's man's mouth twisted into a grin, Jon smiled hesitantly.

   "Well, that's – " 

   "Just kidding, man," Robert laughed, giving him a hearty thump on the back.

   "I knew that," he rejoined with a weak chuckle.

Robert fixed him with a piercing stare.

   "Did you?"

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The door panel slid open and Michael climbed through with surprising gracefulness. He jumped off the platform between the two rooms with a resounding thud, peered about this new room thoughtfully, and then crossed his arms and shook his head.

   "Another one looks the same," he said disapprovingly. "This place is in dire need of an interior decorator."

   "I could do it," a voice from the other side of the room declared laughingly, "but it's gonna cost."

   "Who are you?" Michael demanded.

   "Matthew Masterson. Friends call me Matt," the shorter man greeted as he climbed into the room through the door panel on the opposite wall. "And you are?"

   "Much bigger than you."

   "Duly noted."

   "But my name is Michael Ellis. But on the gridiron, they call me The Tank."

   "Great, The Tank."

   "The 'the' is probably superfluous."

Matt whistled and shook his head.

   "You're not like any football player I've ever met. How many syllables was that? Most football players I know think a 'superfluous' is something that'll kill you."

   "In my experience, 'the' has never killed anyone," Michael said seriously.

Matt pondered this for a moment. 

   "Well, good to meet you. So, you have any idea where we are?"

   "I'd say we're in a room. A cube-shaped room. It's the sixth or seventh identical room I've been in. I lost count," Michael concluded sadly.

   "I guess seven _is_ a pretty high number for a football player, eh, buddy?" Matt laughed.

Michael glared at him briefly.

   "I was a physics major in college. With a minor in football. It's good, because I can calculate the exact velocity with which I tackle the bastard to the ground."

   "So," Matt began after another pause. "Where do you think we are?"

   "I would say this is some sort of sculpture. You know how those artists are."

   "Oh, I know exactly how those artists are," the shorter man said mildly, with a fairly clear hand-sign to indicate that 'how those artists are' was more than a little crazy.

Now it was Michael's turn to pause for a moment in consideration.  

   "So, where to?"

   "Well," Matt began, "if you came from there, and I came from there, those are probably both out."

   "So, down?" Michael asked after another long pause.

   "How about no?"

   "Up?"

   "How about…that way? Left?"

   "Works for me. Let's go, buddy."

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   "Gimme your boots."

Jon looked up slowly at the man glaring angrily at him.

   "Uh, Robert? Are you okay?" 

   "Gimme your boots," he repeated.

   "Well, I guess, but…why?"

Robert shrugged.

   "I don't know. I like boots."

   "That's…wonderful," Jon assured him, backing away nervously. 

   "Sorry, man," Robert sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's this place. I think it gets to you. But we're cool, right?"

   "How long have you been in here again?"

   "Let's see…about six minutes now."

   "Yeah, I can see how that would drive you a little crazy," Jon said sympathetically.

   "Who said I'm crazy?" Robert demanded, a faintly crazed look in his eyes. "Do I look crazy to you?"

   "Well, a little. But I guess we're all a little crazy, aren't we?" the other man concluded with a maniacal grin.

   "Damn," Robert noted, surprised that he seemed to have some competition.

   "Look, we just need something to distract ourselves," Jon said briskly. "Why don't we play a game?"

   "A game?" Robert echoed dubiously.

   "Yeah! I know! I spy, with my little eye—"

   "No," Robert broke in immediately.

   "Okay. How about Name That Tune?"

   "That'll involve singing, right?"

   "Unless you know another way."

   "Forget it," Robert said flatly. "I don't sing, I don't dance, I don't "get down and funky"."

   "Well, then we're kind of stuck for games," Jon said impatiently. "We don't have any cards for poker or Black Jack, we can't play Monopoly without the board."

   "Oh, I know! We can play Pretend Monopoly, and just go on the honor system," Robert suggested sarcastically.

   "How about Truth or Dare?"

   "No!"

   "We could play Spin the Bottle if we had some girls."

   "Yeah, 'cause there's just so many girls around here," Robert scoffed. "C'mon, man, it's not like girls just fall from the ceiling."

Jon nodded sagely as he considered this. The man certainly had a point. Or would have, at any rate, had a young woman not chosen just that moment to fall, screaming, from the door in the ceiling.

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Matt looked up abruptly.

   "Did you just hear a scream?" he asked.

   "I don't hear anything," Michael replied. "Not even you."

   "But you answered my question."

   "I read lips."

   "But you're not even looking at me!" Matt pointed out.

   "I'm very good at it."

   "Uh, right. Seriously, though, I just heard a scream." 

   "Me, too," Michael said as they climbed the ladder leading up to the door panel. "But it was in another room, so I didn't pay attention. In a life-or-death situation, you have to focus on the here-and-now."

   "Well, how do you know this is a life-or-death situation?" Matt asked, frowning suspiciously at him from the ladder on the other side of the door.

   "Maybe I don't."

   "Maybe you do."

   "Maybe _you_ do."

   "Maybe I do."

   "Maybe you don't."

   "Maybe _you_ don't!"

   "Maybe you smell!"

   "Maybe _you_ smell!" Matt shot back snippily.

   "Maybe you have cooties!"

   "Maybe I do," Matt shrugged.

At this, the stare-down ended and both men climbed into the next room, rubbing their eyes and reflecting that next time, they would blink, intimidation factor or no.

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   "Who are you?" Robert demanded, grabbing the blonde girl by the front of the shirt and hauling her from the floor. "What are you doing here? What's your purpose? How long have you been here?"

   "Hey, hey, hey, calm down," Jon said. "Let me talk to her for a second." He turned to the girl and smiled engagingly. "What's your number?"

   "She knows what's going on here! I bet she's the one who built this thing! Gimme your boots!"

At this, she stopped short in her attempt to disentangle herself from Robert's grip.

   "Did he say boots, or something else?"

   "He said boots," Jon replied. "It's kind of a long story. I don't understand it, either."

   "What's your role in this, girl?" Robert growled.

   "Um…well, I figured out how to work the doors." 

   "Oh, so you're gonna play dumb? You think we're fooled?"

   "Hey, ease off, Bob," Jon implored.

   "Don't call me Bob. That's the name of an insurance salesman. I am a cop."

   "Okay, then, Officer Bob."

Robert turned slowly and glared at him.

   "Don't push me, boy."

   "It doesn't seem like we have to," Jon said, shaking his head. "A little nudge seems to do it."

   "It seems like we just have to breathe and you go off," the young woman added.

   "Oh, I get it! You're both against me now! I think you're both in on it! You designed it, she built it!"

   "Don't you think we should establish what 'it' is first?" Jon suggested.

   "_This _is it," he replied, gesturing to their surroundings.

   "A big white box?" 

   "Not _one_ big white box! Many, many big white boxes! I don't know how many there are! But maybe _you_ do," he continued, glaring at the young woman, "since you built it!"

   "Yeah! Because, you know, I just had some spare parts lying around, some metal beams in my closet, a couple thousand acres of spare land in Montana, and a lot of time on my hands," she said cheerfully.

   "Did you get all that, Jon?" Robert muttered aside to the other man. "That's as good as a confession!"

   "A confession to what?! Why would she build this thing and put herself in it?"

   "And just what do you know about it?" Robert demanded.

   "Look, why don't we just stop all these crazy accusations—"

   "Stop calling me crazy!" Robert interjected.

   "Fine. All these kooky accusations—"

   "Stop it!"

   "—all these insane accusations—"

   "Shut up!

   "—all these nutty accusations—"

   "Knock it off!"

   "Sorry. Anyway, we should stop the...accusations and introduce ourselves. I'm Jonathan Power."

He blinked in surprise as he heard a muffled laugh to his right, and stared oddly at the young woman.

   "Oh, that's funny," she commented, then stopped. "Wait, were you serious?"

   "Yeah, I kinda was," he admitted. 

   "What about you? What's your name?" Robert demanded.

   "Finally! I'm so sick of being 'girl'."

   "Tell us your name, and I'll decide whether to use it or keep calling you girl."

   "Fine. It's Jennifer Chase."

   "Nice name, girl."

   "I don't like you," she noted, glaring at him.

   "Whether you like me or don't like me, you better learn to love me, 'cause we're all stuck in here," Robert said sternly.

   "That doesn't even make any sense!"

   "Nothing makes sense in here! I am the sole judge of what makes sense and what doesn't!"

   "Right," she sighed. "I think I'm going to go back to the room with the big spikes coming out of the walls. It seems a little safer."

   "I'll decide whether you stay or go!"

   "Is he always this pushy?" she muttered to Jon.

   "How would I know? I've known him for six minutes!"

   "Yeah, but in those six minutes, was he this pushy?"

   "Yeah, more or less. He's threatened, accused, manhandled, and apologized twice."

   "Sounds like a fun guy."

   "Hey, hey, hey!" Robert broke in. "I'll decide what's fun around here!"

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End Notes: Whee! Well, this'll be fun! To us, anyway. However, if, by some amazing chance you have seen both Captain Power and Cube, you might really enjoy this. An unlikely possibility, but hopefully there'll be someone. We don't think you'll have to have seen Cube to get _all_ the references. ^_^


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